


Go the Distance

by PeregrineWilliams, sahdah



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Mild Language, hercules au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 06:31:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15113753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeregrineWilliams/pseuds/PeregrineWilliams, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahdah/pseuds/sahdah
Summary: Our story actually begins a long, long time ago. When the gods ruled-- but that didn’t matter much to our hero. A dire miscalculation landed him in the unenviable roll of Hades lackey-- that woman is evil, seriously. But all that changed when he met a girl… it’s the gospel truth. A Hercules AU with a twist.





	Go the Distance

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, welcome to my 2nd contribution to Reverb 2018. I was paired with the awesome PeregrineWilliams who inspired this Herculese AU. Warnings for canon style violence and mild language. Hope you enjoy. Please be sure to check out the amazing art that inspired this! 
> 
> -sahdah

The sun shines hot on his exposed toes. Soul stands uncertainly outside the building wondering if he should even bother as he tries to keep moving sandaled foot in front of sandaled foot. His hands keep tugging nervously on his toga. He really, really doesn’t want to be here, but something deep in his soul makes him feel like he must.

 

Damn all the hairbrained, thoughtless life choices that brought him to this moment, he chastises himself. But, the painful realization is that without all of those mistakes...he wouldn’t have met _her._ So, he sighs, resigned to his fate, and enters the support meeting.

 

Inside the darkness is cool, but his mind is stuck on bright dappled freckles, sun-kissed ash, and deep forest green. Fingers worry at the woolen fabric of his garment as he tries to pretend he isn’t present.

 

Gradually, words drift to him through his mental haze.

 

“To any newcomers, welcome and please accept our sincerest condolences.” The voice is deep, but also comforting. “Participation is voluntary but I invite you to raise your hand if you have been personally victimized by Medusa Gorgon (also known as Hades).”   

 

Without actually willing it, his hand rises. Just what in Death City does he think he’s doing? He’s never been one to share any aspect of his pain, but someone (Maka though he tries not to think about it) needs to know that he never, never meant to hurt her in any of this. Prays to any and all the gods to be listening because so help him, if they call on him he is going to word vomit the past six months and it’s gonna get ugly.

 

“You, young man,” the man in charge indicates a beefy man somewhere to Soul’s right.

 

Now that the spotlight has been shined on someone else Soul looks over with a bemused expression until he chokes on spit.

 

The woman sitting on the man’s left sees him first and gives a high pitched, panicked croak when she recognizes him.

 

At this point Free has already started talking, “I was but a wee cub when Medusa abducted me…”

 

And it hits him, that he never once had stopped to wonder what, if anything, had doomed them to Medusa’s services. Those bastards had seemed happy enough to torture him while he had been dutifully employed, so he tunes them out to focus on the one patch of sunlight streaming into this hell hole and thinks about how it all started…

 

...That fateful day.

 

 

* * *

 

He was so over this, Soul thought, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache that was beginning to pound to an unhealthy rhythm in his brain. If Medusa thought he was going to bargain with the River Guardian-- a creepy, strangely proportioned centaur named Gopher, of all things-- that she-demon had another thing coming, cause that wasn’t what this _guy_ had in mind.

 

Oh, first things first-- Medusa being the evil dark dealing edge-lord of the underworld had gained Soul as her lackey when he had (stupidly) assumed it was the last course of action to save his brother Wesleseus to his Souleseus in a long family line of many, many “yeuseus.” You know how ancient families are? Sooo uncool.

 

Wes-- because Soul refused to add the rest of the syllables-- although not in the same category as Narcissus, and really who was? Had still managed to catch the eye of gods, minor gods, nymphs, and mere mortals (not that Soul could understand), which made Wes a target. Nemesis cursed him, for fun if the rumors were to be believed. Their mother lamented day and night, night and day, and at any hour anyone would listen, how her baby boy (he was older than Soul) was doomed to die such a tragic death.

 

Not particularly wanting to live with the consequences that would follow if his brother did, in fact, meet an untimely demise aided Soul in making a particularly terrible decision, and he went to Hades, literally. Except around these here parts she’s known as Medusa. Names aside, you should be afraid, very afraid.

 

Of course, Wes had also caught her eye. Soul cringed as they discussed a deal. She would heal Wesleseus on the condition that he would be given a choice; he could choose her as his companion or she would take his brother. Soul miscalculated. Well, sort of. The deal was botched from the start. Initially, Wes considered, and then nope’ed out like after four days as some guy with fiery red hair caught his attention. That pissed off Medusa, who ended up cursing Soul with black blood, turning him into some half undead houseboy able to cross between planes. Did his family miss him? Yeah, not really. Wes was always the favorite.

 

So what’s in the day of an underworld lackey? Taking over the world, of course.

 

Medusa had a plan. Soul was to convince henchmen-- uh hench-centaur in this specific case-- to join the dark forces. And Soul found himself in this gross situation where he was being told, by this centaur, how much he looked like an old flame. He had a picture-- Soul couldn’t have disagreed more, even said so himself….aaaaaand that’s when the fight started.

 

The next thing he knew, he was being hauled up, legs dangling, a face away from gross horse-breath. Did Gopher ask if he wanted to be picked up? Nope. Typical creeper dude. You say you’re not interested and they think it means you are. Cause that’s logical?

 

At least that’s how quickly it went from being a shitty day, to a day where Soul wanted the river Styx to swallow him whole...which ***spoiler alert***, ah, better not.

 

Soul pushed at the guys face. “Fuck, Gopher! Put me down, I’m not into you,” Soul growled, resisting the urge to just face plant into the river.

 

“But you look so much like Noah!”

 

If looks could kill, heck if his arm could’ve turned into a- a- a- scythe!-- This would be over. Seeing as he’d hit a brick wall with this guy and unwilling to expend anymore energy, Soul slumped over backwards-- not giving up mind you, just, he had to get his thoughts straight before he could plan out his next move. That and his olfactory sensitivities were being offended by the stank of horse and bro-B.O.

 

Turns out-- he didn’t need to plan anything.

 

“Unhand that fair dude in distress, you fiend!” A strong, clear voice called from the other side of the horse-creeper.

 

When one meets the hottest, buffest, most dazzling chick in the country, it’s not something one wants to do while struggling in the arms of a centaur who is trying to suck your face.

 

“‘Scuuuuse you, girlfriend.” Soul watched Gopher leer at this unknown entity. “Go get your own boy toy, this one’s mine!”

 

“I didn’t agree to this shit!” Soul yelled at thick-skull, still trying to gather the energy to deal.

 

From the other side of half-wit, the voice sounded a bit hesitant now-- “I don’t want any trouble, please release that--”

 

“Move it sister,” Soul cut in wearily. These situations never boded well for anyone and he didn’t need another witness to his mortification.

 

“-- young man.” She finished-- well Soul assumed she was a she, with that melodious voice ringing brightly in the woods.

 

“But--” and now she was addressing him. “Aren’t you? I mean, a dude in distress?”

 

Soul did a weird body roll still trapped in Gopher’s massive hand, intending to level the intruder with his most dazzling resting bitch face. This was something he’d seen Wes do a million times to ward off potential bystanders and he felt so gross doing it, but then the sight that met his eyes rendered him speech-stupid.

 

A beautiful woman stood in the river, the water swirling around her massive calf muscles; his eyes followed that up to her strong thighs parting a leather skirt, body armor, and modest boobs, but what really took his breath away was the kindness and concern radiating from her face. Golden hair tied in ponytail, wispy bangs framing impossibly green eyes and a blush burning bright in her cheeks.

 

He was not proud about what happened next but thanks to all his years of older brother torment-- his default mode resorted to sarcasm when made to feel stupid. “Your powers of observation are incredible--” Soul could feel the apathy oozing from his pores, but his gut was fighting him-- he’d have to assess the reasons later. “--Yeah, I am a dude. And, clearly I’m in distress. Move along. I’ve got this.”

 

Soul was witness to her face going from concerned to affronted to something he could only describe as _not on my watch, Hades._

 

Soul knew that look spelled serious shit for Gopher and he wasn’t wrong. He was flung about while horse-brains tried to fight one handed. Which actually caught this chick off guard. At one point Soul went flying. There was yelling from the opposite bank of the river and Soul got a view of a bent up old Satyr with hair almost as white as his own darting about on furry goat legs with one large horn on the left side of his head and on the other side it was a nubbin-- and Soul didn’t want to know that back story. Next to the goat-man was an electric blue horse with huge wings. They were clearly cheering the girl on while she got down to some serious business with Gopher.

 

_Good,_ Soul thought, that half-assed-equined-creeper deserved what he was getting. And good riddance. _Fuck Medusa and her evil plan--_ Soul was so completely lost to self deprecating thoughts and half formed plans of revenge or even more vague plans of how to make amends with his family, fiddling with his chiton trying to wring out the river water and stench of Gross-pher, that he completely hadn’t realized the fight was now over, that was, until he bumped into an armored chest. “Shit!”

 

“I-- uh sorry,” the girl stammered.

 

So did Soul, because this chick was double his BMI in pure muscle and nearly a head taller than him-- holy _Spirit!_ The sky thundered angrily in the distance.

 

“I was asking, ah, if you, uh, were okay….?”

 

Was she fishing for a name? This wonderbabe? Like, his actual name? Soul squeezed the fabric harder. “Souleseus,” he said without a second thought and when his mind caught up to him, he wanted to die, but instead he quickly amended, “but my friends call me Soul, or they would, if I had any…” Wait, what?! Why was he sabotaging himself this way?

 

 

To save himself he said the next brilliant thing to pop into his mind. “So, did they give you a name to go along with those rippling breasts-PECKS, uh, chest... muscles?” And could the earth’s crust tear open and send him back to Medusa’s fiery realm?! Who was this gross sarcastic approximation of himself? Why hadn’t Gopher just put him out of his misery?

 

Laughter burst around him. “Wow, are you always this articulate, Soul?”

 

“Only on Tuesdays,” he blurted, liking his name on her lips entirely too much for the health of his nervous system.

 

Another smile was threatening to render him even more stupid.

 

“Maka. My name is Maka-- Gift of Hera.” Another blush backlit her face and he noticed her cheeks were dusted with freckles.

 

“Gift of Hera…” he whispered. “Wait like the legends say Queen Arachne--” his brain was parsing through the details faster-- “Like the sister of Medu--”

 

A swift hand shot out and covered his mouth. “Don’t say it! Yes, like that yeah.” A second later the softest hand to ever caress his face moved away carefully, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have just touched you like that,” she stammered. “But, it isn’t good to say _that_ name.”

 

Yeah, he knew. Did it mean anything though? He couldn’t be sure. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a toad frolicking with a wolf near the river, but he couldn’t do anything because she was asking, “So, how did you get mixed up with hooves for brains?”

 

Soul was desperately trying to exit stage left, “Long story. You know how it goes with creepers? You say ‘No’ they think it means ‘Yes’ and ‘Fuck off’ means ‘Oh baby, I want you!’”

 

By this time her group had joined her and he was getting the “I’m watching you _bruh_ ” expression from the horse and an equally creepy glare from goat-man, but the girl staring at him seemed extremely confused. “Juuuuust ask the Goat, he can explain it.”

 

The Goat, who clearly did not like being addressed as such, flipped him off so smoothly as he lit a cigarette that Soul wasn’t even sure it had happened. But if that odd hoof pound action between the wild, flying glue stick and Pan junior was anything to go by-- they were laughing at him.

 

It didn’t matter. Panic was rising in his stomach, making him feel extremely queasy. “Look-- Maka, it’s been real.”

 

Long lashes were blinking in confusion. “Wait!” she yelled.

 

He had to get out, she was doing weird stuff to his insides, maybe outsides too, and he couldn’t stand more humiliation.

 

“We could give you a ride?” Her face was endearingly hopeful and it was breaking things inside of his heart he had sworn could never be broken, so he focused on her crew. The horse clearly wasn’t having it. And goat-man was not thrilled about being called The Goat.

 

“Don’t sweat it,” he said with more bravado than he felt. “I got this, I tie my own chiton. I’m a big boy…” _Who is half your size_ , he thought depressingly.

 

“Ah, okay,” she said, and maybe he only imagined the forlorn lilt in her voice as he turned his back and walked away.

 

* * *

 

His stomach growls and Soul blinks, taking in his surroundings. The group is milling about what looks like a table of refreshments. He may as well make the most of it. Getting up, he grabs a cup of water and some olives.

 

They’re clearly still sharing stories. He is careful to avoid the bright patches of sun, trying to remain hidden for reasons he’d rather not dwell on. Free is still talking, giant tears rolling down his face, and Eruka is consoling him.

 

Soul notices with a start that the large man is still wearing the Maka Gift of Hera trainers that had pissed off Medusa so badly. Quietly, he sits back down to listen but avoids eye contact with the group moderator.

 

* * *

 

Feeling sick to his stomach, either from the stench of creeper B.O. or from being flung around, Soul had made his way in the direction of the frolicking woodland creatures.

 

“Seriously?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, the fact that he had to be followed everywhere he went weighing heavily on him.

 

The wolf shuddered and grew until he was the size of a man. “What?” he asked, sharp grin stretching his features. “I thought we looked cute.”

 

“Ahh,” the toad croaked nervously, but Soul had been too preoccupied with what he was going to retort to notice the change in temperature until it was too late.

 

A graceful hand with black talons ran across his shoulders, and Soul tried to resist the urge to vomit.

 

“Souleseussssss.”

 

He shuddered, hating the way she loved drawing out the syllables in his name.

 

“What happened my dear soul?” Translation: soul belonging to her, not his name. “You were supposed to convince Gopher to join my cause.”

 

“Welp,” Soul grimaced. “Yeah, wasn’t gonna happen. Sucks huh?”

 

Medusa stood before him, her fair features warped with mock concern. “Awwh, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

 

This wasn’t going to be good at all.

 

“Welp,” she continued mocking him. “See your contract here--” Soul willed every fiber of his being to not lunge for it, but he must have flinched. A wicked smile stretched her face in a way that plagued his nightmares. “I was going to tear it up soon, but looks like you just increased your stay with me. Sucks huh?”

 

“YOU! Why are you doing this?” Soul lashed out, forgetting himself.

 

“Oh.” She clucked her tongue at him. “You know why.”

 

This only infuriated him more. In hindsight, he wonders if he had actually been able to process the situation with a level head if he would have thrown Maka under the proverbial cart. Perhaps not, but hindsight is a bitch.

 

“Look, it wasn’t my fault, some wonder-chick named Maka--” and he sort of went weak in the knees-- “beat the shit out of Gopher, so…”

 

Had he been with it, he would have noticed several things like the way Free and Eruka tried to edge out of the clearing or how Medusa’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Or some of the conversation that happened between those three. But no, Soul was daydreaming of strong thighs and green eyes.

 

“SOUL!” Medusa roared, bringing him out of his reprieve; when she was satisfied she had his full attention she asked very softly. “What was the name again?”

 

“Maka,” he said. “Gift of Hera,” rolled slowly off his tongue, and he was witness to Hades nearly turning into a gigantic anaconda. She reigned it in at the last second.

“I am THIS close to achieving freedom from the shithole my sisters put me in and the one being who can fuck this up is running around saving _dudes in distress?!_ ”

 

It would have been better if she would have screamed it, Soul thought. But she didn’t. It came off as sinister hissing and Soul felt as though he would never feel warmth again.

 

Medusa started muttering things about still having time to execute her plan, but the last thing she said, eyes wild and snake like, she said to Soul. “You will fix this.”

 

X

 

_Fix this_ devolved into a whole horrific scheme. Soul’s soul felt weighted with the sins of the damned in Tartarus-- where he should probably be for committing the atrocity he commited next.

 

He’d been sent to the city to summon wonder woman herself.

 

She wasn’t a hard figure to miss, hair radiating sunshine just as intensely as her armor. He hates the smile that lit up her face at the sound of his voice calling her name. Hates how his innards turned to gooey mush at his own name intoned in her voice.

 

There was no way he could have predicted what happened after he told her his contrived sob story-- kids trapped in the gorge outside of the city. Wonder Maka had not exactly manhandled him, although you could make that argument. Soul had been told he was going to get picked up but he hadn’t anticipated the swooping in his stomach because of her proximity. The small shy smile she’d gifted him with before he nearly went flying-- she was incredibly strong.

 

So, it hadn’t been until the moment the blue crazed beast unfurled his huge wings that Soul regretted not staying behind.

 

The upward thrust made sure his stomach stayed on the ground while they were powerfully lifted through the desert skies. A two wheeled animatronic chariot, like a steel horse but with wheels, would have been safer.  Gods-- the descent was worse waiting for his stomach to catch up.

 

Maka had hopped off her winged war horse like the angel of battle Soul had no doubt she was. Why couldn’t Medusa have just left her alone? That thought and his stomach returning to normal gravity made him sick, but the girl didn’t notice, she just plucked him off of _Black*Star’s_ flanks-- the brute had a name to match his wild personality.

 

Soul followed at a distance hearing Free and Eruka’s voices, small and childlike, coming from behind the boulder to a cave entrance that should not be provoked. He wanted to warn her- to tell her she shouldn’t, that it was a sham-- but he couldn’t. He didn’t.

 

Crowds gathered, cheering her on. Soul watched helplessly, mouth agape, as she hefted the colossal boulder on a broad shoulder and saved the day. And all the while Medusa watched him, carefully.

 

It was torture, seeing the boulder thrown away. Free and Eruka scampered back to their master, thrilled with their own performance, and Soul tried to hide his budding feelings. Choking down a cry for Maka to get the hell out of there, he realized it was too late.

 

There was a roar from deep within the cavern. The crowd drew a tense breath together, huddling close for protection. In the throne she’d conjured Medusa sat, robe and hair flaming around her. It made Soul sick; she was only here to watch and ensure Maka was destroyed.

 

“Get out,” he whispered under his breath. _Leave, just go_. It was impossible to yell-- his already “for all eternity” sentence would be extended some way, some how. It sat heavy in his gut, this fear-- madness really, the inability to control his own fate.

 

 

Helpless, he watched her fight against the Hydra-- a hideous black beast with great white slashes across its face. When it’s heinous maw closed about her, Soul wanted to vomit. The only thing that kept him sane was that Medusa was unconvinced. Forcing deep breaths through his nose, he watched as a bright gleaming sword did a full 360 and Maka erupted like a golden phoenix, albeit one covered in goo.

 

From the sidelines he could see the horse and goat shouting, he wanted to cheer with them but something caught his eye.

 

Eruka and Free were making some strange sounds and Soul wasn’t sure if they were hyped about the beast bloodshed or fearful. Then Medusa slithered closer to the edge of her seat. “It isn’t finished yet,” she hissed, drawing out each S”.

 

“Oh?” croaked Eruka. Free fidgeted next to her.

 

“It’s my favorite part,” Medusa said.

 

Down below, Soul strained to see but then recoiled. The hydra’s ugly open wound was bubbling black with blood. He watched, horrified, as it split in two reforming its heads. “Fuuuuuuck.”

 

“I know right?!” Medusa was positively gleeful.

 

Below Maka moved quick as lightning, dodging, parrying, striking. Everywhere her sword flashed two heads grew back. If Soul’s hair wasn’t already white as snow, he had not doubt it would be by now with the fear and worry that was bubbling in his gut.

 

Medusa’s face was curled in a wicked smile. “Sudden death!”

 

The crowd was tense, holding their breath. It was insanity that they stood there watching at all. Soul wanted to smack each and every one of these fools for their stupidity, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Maka, willing with every breath he took that she would be okay.

 

On top of all the shit that could possibly go wrong, lightning tore at the sky and the heavens opened up, pouring rain on an already shitty situation.

 

Soul doesn’t remember if he actually screamed as one of the bolts hit the top of the cliff right above where Maka had been thrown against the face of the mountain by the beast. She looked so tiny, so fragile. But then, she was flinging herself against the mountain, battering at it with her entire being until, with a huge ripping sounds the entire face came down.

 

Rubbing the debris from his face, Soul looked over the edge…

 

...from the dust and rubble a figure emerged slowly.

 

Maka had done it! She’d crushed the hydra and stood victorious.

 

From then on she became the Death City Darling. The Angel of Death. The Vanquisher of Villains. The Captain of Courage. The gift of Hera herself-- Hercules. Spiders fled before her in terror.

 

And she was completely out of his league.

* * *

 

He sits there in the meeting, mind firmly in nostalgia. Soul’s never been able to live in the here and now. It’s hard for him to admit that this is what gets him in these messes in the first place. His avoidance of his parents emotions that have always been so intricately tied to his brother’s well being-- no one had asked him to get involved; he just assumed that’s what he was supposed to do.

 

His head is in his hands trying to scrub out all of his mistakes. It was the same thing with Maka-- no one told him to develop a crush on her. But he had. Was he destined to fall for a woman who was unavailable to keep his heart safe? Maka had no need of him.

 

* * *

 

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Soul’s head reverberated with Medusa’s scream of rage.

 

“SPIRIT DAMN IT!” she howled.

 

If she weren’t so completely deranged he might find it humorous, but he kept his mouth shut and tried to keep his brain focused on a day dream of sorts. More like a melody that lived in the black room of his soul, dark heavy curtains drawn tight, blue lighted torches protecting the source of his music, his muse, Maka. Or the idea he held of her.

 

“That stupid blonde little bitch has destroyed everything I’ve thrown at her!” Medusa paced the underworld, hair a blazing into a serpentine inferno above her head.

 

Soul resisted the urge to faceplant into the obsidian. It was painful being around this woman. It threw his own darkness into sharp perspective. It’s true, he’d dealt with self loathing but not on this scale. And he sat there rationalizing that if he ever made it out of his unbreakable contract intact, he wouldn’t take shit for granted anymore. If he could.

 

“None of it seems to faze her…” Free had walked in-- in the newest line of Air Maka trainers. Medusa looked like she’d swallowed unicorn fart. “...What in my name are you wearing?”

 

Soul peaked over the tablet he’d picked up landside, last time he’d sojourned to see Maka kick the ass of a Minotaur. Seeing that Free had no idea what line he had crossed, Soul quietly ducked down trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible. Only from this position he saw that Eruka was sipping merrily from one of the commemorative collector’s cups from the battle with the Hydra Ragnarok.

 

“Aren’t they dashing?” Free asked, heedless of the atmosphere.

 

Medusa’s eyes blazed. “I’ve. Got. Hours. To get rid of this angelic bitch.” Altogether, Soul found that to be an accurate description of Maka (minus the bitch part obviously)-- he’d been referring to her as his angel in his disassociating daydreams. “Or everything I’ve plotted for years goes up in smoke. AND YOU’RE WEARING HER MERCH?!!!”

 

_Please don’t say anything,_ Soul prayed to any available deity.

 

“Thirsty?” Came Eruka’s squeaky voice.

 

His hand was over his face, palm attempting to erase it from existence. Of course Eruka would step in and say the exact wrong thing. Not sure when he’d become so generous, Soul piped up through his fear, hoping his anxiety didn’t color his tone. “Maybe you should just give it up and focus on your plan.” Long practiced apathy kept his voice bored and steady.

 

Medusa’s eyes zeroed in on him like she’d forgotten about his existence until the exact moment he’d opened his stupid mouth.

 

“Give it up?” she repeated. At least she wasn’t screaming.

 

“Yeah,” Soul said as bored as he could possibly be while simultaneously trying to figure out why Hades was looking at him like that. “You know-- let it go.” Medusa’s eyes narrowed but he continued. “She’s dodging every wrench you’ve thrown at her.” He wasn’t sure what he was saying anymore.

 

Medusa blinked long and hard at him. “Soul, you might have a point.”

 

He fucked it up.

 

Somehow he’d said the wrong thing. She’d never used his actual preferred name…

 

“Maybe I haven’t thrown the right wretch-- I mean wrench.”

 

No, no, no, no, no, Soul thought. Medusa didn’t make mistakes when she hatched devious plans. “Uhhhh. Dude, use your minions.”

 

He’d sunk lower into the only bit of comfortably formed lava he’d found in this dump, trying to hide behind his Death City Today, cursing himself for being an idiot and speaking up.

 

“No, my sweet, sweet soul.” (Possession not person.) “I think you’ve got a point. I’ve been looking at this puzzle all wrong. I think our little angel needs a soul to save.”

 

“Nooooooo,” Soul groaned. “You’re sick. Free and Eruka-”

 

“-fucked this up when she was a baby,” Medusa cut him off.

 

Soul shot a scared look at the wolf and toad cowering in the corner looking at him with wide, fearful eyes. Spirit-damn-it. Spirit damn it all to Medusa.

 

“I need you, Soul.” He looked up at her, willing his heart to beat normal rather than the spaz show it had become. “I need you to manhandle this girl for me,” she said.

 

“I’ve, uh, sworn off manhandling,” he stumbled over his words; besides, it was more likely to go the other way around since she towered over him.

 

“Well then, whatever it is the kids do these days,” she said, creepy ass smile back in place. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Her breath was hot on his neck and he shuddered involuntarily. “Your contract is on the line. Keep her out of my plans and you get your freedom, Souleseussssss.”

 

* * *

 

_How long do these things last normally,_ he wonders. The place is pretty full, many people voicing their aggravation to the healer in the mask.

 

Soul sits; he still can’t make out much of the last twenty-four hours. There’s a large gap in his memory-- the last thing he can recall before this morning is the column.

 

* * *

 

The worst part of Medusa’s plan was that Soul wasn’t upset about being asked to meet/distract Maka. It’s not like he wanted to be gross about it, but he was sort of a mess of butterflies whenever he thought of, ya know, running into her.

 

As he walked up to her veranda a mixed group of men and women and a half-goat were running out. Goat-Stein was bleating after a particularly voluptuous blonde who Soul was 99% sure was a nymph. Only Star was still, which struck him as odd, but then again the horse was rubbing up against a camellia plant.

 

He felt so foolish-- of course every eligible person would be trying to mack on her-- he actually hadn’t considered this possibility until now.

 

Inside the room was quiet, on a stand what looked to be a recently abandoned vase depicting, Soul wasn’t sure to be honest. It was such a mess of angry scribbles as if a child had a tantrum with ink. On the floor a discarded lion’s pelt, and behind curtain number one-- Maka.

 

“Soul!” she cried, sputtering, and suddenly he felt awkward and very unsure.

 

“Uh, hey, Maka,” he stammered, embarrassed by the fact that she considered him hug-able at all. “It’s okay, the sea of testosterone has ebbed.” A hand scrubbed through his hair.

 

“Gods don’t remind me,” she returned sheepishly. “When I was young no one even so much looked my way and now they’re all chasing me.”

 

“Even the girls?” he asked with a snerk, then realized that would double his odds which still meant he’d have zero chance.

 

“Ugh, especially the girls.” Maka attempted to suppress a shudder. “I, ah, mean, uh, what I mean is that it’s okay if they do like me but ah I, sort of don’t want to lead anyone on.”

 

“Maka, you’re fine, you don’t have to explain for my benefit.” Soul chuckled involuntarily. Only a moment later his mind connected her words. “Wait, what do you mean lead anyone on?”

 

Her face went as bright as the sun streaming in from the windows as her cheeks dusted a deep pink. He felt his own face burning and wasn’t sure he understood the bodily response.

 

“I-- ah--” She was reduced to stammering bashfulness and he felt his stomach flutter in response. “What are you up to today?”

 

It was his turn to be a bumbling young man; had he ever felt like this with anyone? He knew that answer. “Nothing,” he finally managed.

 

They stood there a moment just staring at one another. “Mybossistryingtousemeagainstyou,” tumbled from his lips as she said, “Ireallylikespendingtimewithyou,wannahangout?”

 

They both looked at each other a moment before she started giggling. “I-- didn’t catch any of that-”

 

“Me either,” he interrupted again.

 

After a few more tries he just gestured helplessly for her to repeat and then wished he hadn’t. His soul ached to tell her the truth-- she was the best thing that had happened to him. He could feel himself lose the ever present sadness when he was around her-- not because he relied on her-- he felt like he had the courage to be himself.

 

They spent the day together. And what a day it was. There was that restaurant in the heart of the city. Then that play, Soul still felt shook. Nothing like watching Oedipus completely mess up his family to put Soul’s far less dramatic shit into perspective.

 

The day was winding down and coming to an end when they found themselves at the cemetery grounds. A beautiful if not morbid garden, but it was peaceful.

 

Maka told him about her childhood being raised by her adoptive parents Sid and Nygus. How she had never really fit in anywhere. Then after decimating a village-- it wasn’t her fault-- they didn’t build anything according to regulated building standards-- her parents told her they had found her one dark and stormy evening, two snakes strangled to death in her hands.

 

Soul shuddered-- Medusa had tried murdering her as a baby! And he realized he couldn’t do this. Whatever he felt in his gut for this girl was stronger than his fear of Medusa and anything she could do to him.

 

“Maka,” he said, and there was a twinge, a stab of pain across his chest but he had to say it. “I did some things-- made some really bad choices-”

 

Wide green eyes stared at him with concern. Of course he sounded crazy, he knew that. “Soul,” she interrupted him. “W-we all make mistakes.”

 

He shook off the suggestion although he wanted to hang onto it. “No, not like this,” he said. “I think it was Hades-Medusa who tried to kill you. When you were a baby.”

 

Maka shook her head. “Why though?”

 

He looked around trying to oust his normal spies. “She’s been going about this plan of hers,” he said.

 

“How would you know that?”

 

“Because he works for me, dear.” The air dropped a number of degrees and the night seemed to fold in on itself, spitting out the lord of death.

 

Soul found himself lifted up in tendrils of black snake smoke. “Maka run!”

 

Even in the short time he’d known her, he knew she wouldn’t. The girl was already up, sword in hand.

 

“No no no,” Medusa said, dark cloak writhing with her power. “Stay for my party, please. It’s to die for.”

 

“Let him go,” Maka snarled.

 

The smoke encased Soul swung around as easy as a piece of straw on a breeze while Medusa examined him with the boredom of someone looking for an imperfection on her nails. “I don’t think I will.”

 

Maka lunged at the death god, but to no avail. Medusa just placed Soul between her and the sword, a living shield. If Maka had the reflexes of a normal human, Soul would have been cleaved from shoulder to hip. The girl shrieked in anger.

 

The older woman looked bored, tisking her tongue at her like she was a naughty child. The smoke snakes curled in on Soul; he fought against the horrifying sensation but there was no use. “Here’s the thing,” Medusa got straight to business, “I’m taking down your daddy, one way or another.”

 

That brought Maka up short. “How do I have anything to do with that?”

 

The lord of darkness sat there and blinked. “Well, you don’t. But you are the bastard daughter of my sister’s husband--” She looked to Soul to be a little lost on why she was going through with her plan. “--not that that bitch did much to help me. Look-- I’m going to kill Souleseus if you help your dad-”

 

“Why would I do that?” Maka shouted.

 

The queen of the underworld stared hard at the girl before her. “Why-- you wouldn’t help him?”

 

Now they both looked, if possible, more distrustful. “I don’t know,” Maka said at long last. “Let Soul go!” She hefted her sword once more.

 

“Under some conditions,” Medusa countered.

 

“Name them.” The green fire determination behind her eyes was melting walls Soul had not realized he’d built. He couldn’t let her do this.

 

“Maka, don’t!”

 

But his overlord was looking like she was about to strike at a fat canary as the smoke that covered his mouth and nose suffocated him.

 

“You relinquish your power for the next twenty four hours, you do not rise up to help Olympus fight.” Medusa’s eyes roamed around trying to tie up any loopholes.  

 

From where he was, running out of air, he could see Maka going over the terms in her head. The tall woman struck out her muscled arm, gripping Medusa’s considerably smaller one. “Okay, so long as--” and he could see the veins twitching in her forearms. Medusa’s eyes bulged trying not to betray the real pain her hand must have been in-- “no harm comes to Soul, whatsoever!”

 

The last tightening grip resulted in him getting a breath of fresh air. “Fine!” Medusa hissed in agreement, and only then was her hand released.

 

Soul was dropped like last month’s flavor. He landed in a heap in front of a rapidly shrinking Maka. “No,” he said. “No, she loves making deals-- she’s not only planning on decimating Olympus but the whole world,” he gasped out while trying to suck in more air.

 

From his position on the ground he saw her face go into an “oh” as the realization struck her.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Soul lamented, falling to his side. “I was trying to warn you.”

 

Small hands gripped him under his arm and tugged up, but he didn’t move much.

 

“I got it,” he said. When he finally worked his way up to a standing position he was shocked to look down instead of up. “Maka!”

 

Her face dusted pink. “It’s okay,” she said, but it looked like it was anything but.

 

An intense braying filled his ears and a blurring charge of lightning, electric blue and white thundered at them. Soul realized that the horse intended to knock into his master like normal, so without much thought his arms shot out, pulling Maka out of the way as the crazy beast slid into a stop onto his hindquarters where he would have knocked the girl to the ground.

 

With much embarrassment, Soul unhanded Maka. “I’m so sorry.”

 

In the distance, the moon went blood red as the planets aligned. “My bad,” Soul said, however Maka kept hold of his hand.

 

“Fuuuuuuck, I need to quit smoking,” a gruff voice bleated from behind them. “Medusa aims to destroy Olympus and life as we know it.”

 

“Stein!” she cried. The goat looked unsteady on his hooves trying to suck down air.

 

Maka let go of his hand to put a steadying arm around her mentor who was a half head taller than her now.

 

A black pillar shot up or maybe it was down, Soul wasn’t sure anymore, from the sky. Even from this distance the ground shook.

 

The horse trotted over to them with a sputtered neigh that vaguely sounded like, bring it or bitch please, Soul couldn’t decide. This was it though, they were all going to die.

 

“What’s happening, Stein?” Maka asked.

 

“Medusa has released the titans on the eclipse of the blood moon,” the goat mentor responded. “It was foretold that if the daughter of the sky god joined Olympus in battle Medusa would be thwarted.”  Stein gave Maka a very loaded look. “Looks like she’s not going to have opposition.”

 

The horse snorted on Soul, covering his hair in thick muck, neighing brazenly like the whole thing was exactly what Soul deserved. He couldn’t argue.

 

“Who says so?” Maka’s eyes were set on the distance. A huge black cloud of madness loomed. The earth shuddered and shook from the other forces.

 

“Do you not see what is happening?” Stein indicated the horizon.

 

“I see it,” she snarled. “I don’t plan on standing aside and doing nothing.”

 

The horse seemed to oppose this by looking down his nose at her with an incredulous expression that did not go unnoticed. “Shut it, Star!”

 

It was hard to see anything past the raging typhoons, vortexes, and snow storms that had arisen in the distance. Soul strained but only caught a few glitters here and there-- the gods fighting back. If the lava flow going up Mount Olympus was anything to judge by, he’d say it was going very poorly.

 

Unfortunately for them, their immediate future was filled by a tall, willowy figure in black, dragging a colossal sword behind them. Muttered words from the ominous figure

filled the silence the inhabitants had left in the wake of hiding, fearing for their lives.

 

Instead of waiting for the approaching figure to reach them, Soul watched in abject horror as Maka walked out to them. The fact that she could face a danger more real while in a weakened state drove him out to her. They were in this mess because of him, because Medusa had used him and he so foolishly played right into her hand.

 

“Uhh, why is she coming out here to face me,” the figure muttered. “I don’t know how to deal with this.”

 

Soul had reached Maka, knees feeling a little shaky. This close, the figure was near fifteen feet tall, with a doleful gray eye in the middle of their face, and a shock of pink hair. This was the smallest cyclops he’d ever seen.

 

For such a tiny woman, Soul was shocked when Maka bellowed. “You don’t have to do this!”

 

The figure swung back, wicked black blade in hand, looking affronted. “Why is it yelling at me?” They turned to watch the chaos on the horizon. “Lord Hades said she’d kill me if I don’t kill you.”

 

It felt like being punched in the gut. This poor cyclops was being used as a pawn in Medusa’s scheme made him angry. “Don’t do it!” he shouted. “Wouldn’t you rather go play on the beach?” He wasn’t sure where that came from; maybe it was his own desire to never see the gloom of the underworld again. To have some peace on a shore that was bathed in sunshine.

 

“Now the strange one is talking to me,” the figure muttered in despair. “Kill the white rabbit then kill the brown.”

 

_Rabbit?_ Soul wondered but then a hand worked its way into his and he clasped it tightly. He took comfort in the warmth that was offered.

 

“It’s not like the other cyclops I’ve fought before,” she said softly to him.

 

He didn’t have time to argue. It happened too fast; she released his hand, dropping the sword held in the other and took a confident step towards the creature. The move proved to be too much for their frazzled nerves. Soul saw the sword arc before he knew what he was doing. _“Maka! Look out”_  Was what he intended to say, but there wasn’t time.

 

There was a burning across his chest. Maka had been flung away from the arc of the sword but the sword exploded against a corinthian column and the old lintel succumbed to the force of the blow. Holding a hand to his chest, Soul watched the trajectory of the column drawn to Maka with almost cosmic precision.

 

Had he ever truly believed he was going to be freed from his contract with Medusa? In a deeply painful place in his soul, he knew without a doubt that it had been a one way ticket to hell. His normally apathetic synapses seemed to be firing much faster than normal as he hurled his fame at Maka one last time. Such a violent caress for a person he had grown to care about in such a short time. If this was his one great deed it was worth it, she could do much more good for others than he had achieved in his short time on this plane. No one was going to miss him when he left-- no one had noticed him leaving the first time.

 

“NOOOOO!!!!”

 

This wasn’t so bad.

 

“SOUL!” She was so loud next to his fading focus and he was just so tired. “Soul! You’re so stupid, what were you thinking?!”

 

There was a shrieking filling his ears, but all he could see was her eyes sparkling like dew on the leaves of fresh spring flowers. _Beautiful._ What a gift…

 

 

* * *

 

A hand jabs at him, rousing him from the late hot sun induced delirium. “Huh-wha?” he says, completely eloquent with a sharp sense of embarrassment because he has definitely drooled on himself.

 

The healer, death mask firmly in place, repeats his question. “We were wanting to know if you would share with us,” he says, and when met with Soul’s gaping incredulity, he adds, “Why you came, to the meeting?”

 

_Oh shit._ Soul tries and fails not to panic as he gathers his thoughts. He hadn’t actually thought he would be called upon. “I- ah,” he stops. Looking around at all the faces, no one is looking at him like he’s an idiot, even though he feels so awkward; they actually look like they want to hear what he has to say.

 

He glances to his right and sees Eruka hovering close to Free. The wide eyed girl offers him knitted eyebrows and a very small, pinched smile that borders on painful, but it’s this more than anything that helps him along.

 

His eyes blink as he thinks through what he wants to explain. “I have never really trusted people,” and even pulling at that splinter helps the rest of it flow. “I, ah, would-- I ah-- I sold my soul to Hades so I wouldn’t have to listen to my mom whine about her oldest dying.” A bark of sardonic laughter escapes him. “I’ve been doing shit like that my whole life. I did it because I didn’t want to deal with things, like my brother actually dying because he angered the gods. I guess in a way I just felt sorry for myself, like I was weird or something because I wasn’t seen in the same way my brother was. I never really stopped to think about why I am the way I am, well, not until I met-” Here he stops, because it hurts.

 

Thinking about it reminds him of why he’s here.

 

He came to in her arms. Maka restored to her rightful size. Something had happened and when he got too close to it he got the heebie jeebies. He’d done something stupid again and she had saved him, had somehow saved them all. After she’d set him down, he threw his arms around her neck, elated when she wrapped hers around him tightly, securely. An eternity might have passed but it felt like far less.

 

People use the expression when lightning strikes, like it’s a romantic thing, but in reality it was scary as fuck. Soul backed away, hair still standing on end, his eyebrows scorched. And the smell of ozone was thick like a heavily perfumed man on a hot Death City day.

 

“MAAAKAAAA!”

 

He watched as Maka was enveloped by a burning cloud of fiery red, before she was whisked away into the heavens and far, far from where Soul would ever be able to reach her.

 

He’s not sure he can explain any of that to a group of his closest strangers so he doesn’t. “-someone,” he says a long last. It’s a whisper on his lips.

 

Outside there’s a commotion. Loud shouting, braying horses, but if a comet had crashed in from the heavens, Soul still wouldn’t care. Icarus himself could have walked in and it wouldn’t matter because he needs to get this off his chest.

 

The room draws a collective breath but no one speaks and after another minute he continues. “We hung out a few times. She made me realize that not being like other guys wasn’t a bad thing, you know?” he asks without really expecting the emphatic head nods. “I just, I felt okay-- better than okay-- like I was a person worthy of attention. It’s hard to explain,” he says but he goes on anyway. “Okay so I’ve done some stupid shit in my life but when that pillar was falling, it wasn’t like what happened with my brother. I don’t know what sort of expectations I had then but they were selfish. With her, with that column, I just-- I didn’t want her story to be over…” he trails off thinking for a moment. And he feels a flare of some emotion he can’t put a name to. “I didn’t-- I didn’t do it to be brought back. I have no idea why I’m here.” It’s more than that but he can’t figure out why. “I didn’t do it to be brought back,” he ends awkwardly. But it’s the gospel truth, he had given himself freely. With no expectations. But to be back, to be back and her gone, it hurts. “You all know it’s thanks to her we’re even here,” he says. They should know she saved all their sorry asses, his sorry ass. He’s closed his eyes, palms pressing over his sockets, losing himself to the black.

 

The room feels alive with strange energy. So many whispers reach his ears and for a minute he feels like he’s back in the hushed halls of Hades where only the dead keep each other company. The sound is like a hand on sun baked paper, eternal, endless.

 

“You are so stupid!”

 

It’s like he can hear the echoes of her yelling at him after he pushed her away. The column would have crushed her. Instead, it crushed him.

 

“You were brought back-” His eyes fly open. She’s inexplicably here and in front of him. “-because-” her eyes are intense, locked with his, her hands feel warm and comforting, so natural cupping his jaw drawing him closer to her, “-I don’t want this if I can’t share it with you. Maybe in the world you’re just some guy, but to me you feel like the world. I wasn’t going to lose you.”

 

Soul stares at her thinking she has it all backwards. But, he realizes they’ve both given up some form of immortality to take a chance on something that is fleeting but feels more real than infinite time.

 

When her mouth meets his the room bursts into whoops and applause but he doesn’t care. The world is in his arms. He knows, now, without a doubt that he can go the distance.

 

  



End file.
